


The Blue Pill

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-25
Updated: 2010-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reno has a plan to get laid. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Pill

Rufus looked up with a frown as Reno and Rude entered his office. The redhead was carrying a bottle of champagne and three glasses. "Reno? I really have a lot to get done tonight, I don't have time for this."

"I know you have a lot to do boss, but you know, we never celebrated your promotion? I was thinking about how busy you've been, and how busy we've been, and realised we didn't even take time to toast your father's unfortunate demise. Doesn't that seem unbearably callous? I mean, the old man finally had enough sense to get himself killed. It's about the only worthwhile thing he's done in years. And, of course," Reno grinned, "we should raise a glass in honour of your own presidency."

One eyebrow arched, but Reno could see the slight smirk that crossed Rufus's lips at the memory of the former president, pinned to his desk like an overweight butterfly, with Sephiroth's sword in place of the pin. "It certainly was one of my father's finer moments," the blond admitted.

"I bought us Junon Black Label '78." Reno held up the bottle in illustration, his voice coaxing. Rufus was a wine snob, and while Reno was known to drink anything, all those times he'd had to listen to Rufus and Tseng ramble on about wines served him well now. He hadn't 'bought' it, exactly - the stuff sold for millions of gil per bottle. But it was well worth the effort to steal it, because there was no way Rufus would turn down a glass of this particular vintage.

Indeed, there was a flicker of something almost childishly gleeful on Rufus's face at the prospect of drinking it, before his expression settled into something more suitably authoritative. "Well, I suppose one glass won't hurt."

Reno poured them each a glass, and offered up an irreverent toast in the former President ShinRa's memory. They sipped at the expensive champagne, making small talk until Rude leaned over and hissed at Reno, "What did you do?"

Rufus had almost finished his glass. But the small amount of champagne was not nearly enough to account for the wide, somewhat goofy smile on his face. Rufus didn't do goofy.

Reno shrugged, unconcerned. "I might've slipped something in his drink. I spent way too much time doing paperwork these past few weeks, and so has he. I figured I'd loosen him up a bit, and then we'd go have fun. I brought you along so he didn't suspect anything."

"You slipped Rufus a roofie?" Rude's voice rose slightly.

Suddenly Rufus was right there. "Are you two talking about me?" he said, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No, not at all, boss. We were just discussing Rude's dog. It's called... Ruffles."

"You should be talking about me, you know," Rufus informed them quite seriously. "I'm not just a VP any more, I'm a VIP – Very Important President." This statement bought about a return of the big grin.

He looked up at Rude, glass held loosely in his fingers. A few centimetres of champagne still sloshed about in the bottom. "It's not one of those little fluffy dogs, is it? I can't stand them. I'd hate to have a little fluffy dog named after me. Did you name it after me?"

While Rude desperately tried to work out the correct answers to Rufus's questions about his entirely fictional dog, Reno was frowning. This wasn't the outcome he expected, at all. Rufus was supposed to be feeling really horny right now, not just high.

He dug into his jacket pocket, and pulled out an unmarked pill bottle. He tipped the contents into his hand, a rainbow of different drugs spilling across his palm. Purple, green, yellow, black, pink – and red.

"Shit."

"What?"

"I must have given him the wrong pill."

"Reno!"

"What? It's not gonna kill him. I gave him the blue pill, when I should have given him the red one." He looked up into the reflective surfaces of Rude's sunglasses, and was momentarily distracted by the image of him in a long black trench coat. He shook his head to dislodge the errant thought. "The red pill makes people horny. The blue pill just makes them happy." He blinked as Rufus started playing with his hair. "Although I suppose happy people can be affectionate, too."

"You have pretty hair," Rufus remarked. Then he wrinkled his nose as his hands brushed across stiffened strands. "But you use way too much styling product." Reno didn't get a chance to voice his indignation over this observation, because Rufus turned his attention to his partner. "You don't have any hair."

Rufus stepped closer to Rude. "You're big." He gave him a considering look, and reached for the man's tie. Taking hold of it, he used it as a leash to drag the large Turk's head downwards, a move that saw his remaining champagne splashed on the carpet. He then proceeded to rub the top of it, a curious expression on his face.

"Reno!" Rude hissed. "Should he be this... impaired? My dog, Ruffles," he explained hurriedly when Rufus made an inquiring sound. "My big, tough Rottweiler. He's responding badly to some medication."

"Doberman," Rufus said.

"Huh?"

"Ruffles is a Doberman. You said so, remember?" The rubbing had devolved into something more like petting, and Rufus seemed to be quite content to keep Rude hunched over so he could stroke his bald head for the rest of the evening.

"Right, my Doberman." Rude glared at Reno. "He has the impulse control of a three-year old!"

"That's twenty-one in dog years," Rufus informed him. "And if Ruffles is misbehaving, you need to be firm. Pets respect discipline. I had one, remember? Dark Nation always did what I said."

"And terrorised everybody else," Reno muttered under his breath. "It's not really supposed to be mixed with alcohol."

"I miss Dark Nation. He used to climb into bed with me when I had a bad day, and I'd cuddle him." Rufus looked down as he related this, but he finally seemed to notice what Reno was holding. "You have M&amp;Ms? I love them!" He reached for one, and Reno hurriedly stuffed his hand in his pocket, pills and all.

"Uh, sorry, you can't have those." The last thing they needed was for a Rufus who'd already unwittingly mixed drugs and alcohol to mix it with more drugs. Reno didn't know for sure, but figured the paperwork involved in causing your boss to OD and need his stomach pumped was probably horrendous.

"You're mean." Rufus pouted, and tugged downwards a bit more on Rude's tie. The big man gave a somewhat choked sound, drawing the blond's attention once again. "You're big. Are you cuddly, too?"

"He's a regular snuggle bunny," Reno snorted. It was always a source of amusement to him, that his big, tough partner had a softer side – and it was very soft.

"Let's go to bed, then," Rufus said. It was something Reno had dreamed of hearing directed at him, these past long, boring weeks, but for some reason, his boss was still looking at Rude.

"I shouldn't -"

"I'm the boss," Rufus warned, tugging at the tie as if it were a leash. "You have to do as I say."

Rude's cheeks flushed, and a reaction at a lower height showed just how happy this idea made him.

"You're big all over, aren't you?" Rufus stroked the front of Rude's pants with the same fascination he'd shown his head.

"Oh, fuck, no!" Reno said, disbelieving. He went to all this trouble, and Rude was going to get laid.

"Come." The tie was still functioning as a leash, but Rude was following along happily enough as Rufus headed for the discreet panel that concealed an elevator to the presidential apartment.

"What about me?" Reno asked plaintively, as he wondered who had told their boss that big, bad Rude liked to be dominated.

"You can't come," Rufus informed him. "You don't share." The elevator door closed behind them with a hushed sound, leaving Reno alone in the president's office with three empty glasses, a pocketful of pills, and a small amount of very expensive champagne left in the bottom of the bottle.

"Well, fuck." The words echoed in the empty room, emphasising that Reno wasn't going to get to do just that.

After several minutes' contemplation, he picked up the bottle of Junon Black Label '78 – one of the most expensive champagnes in existence, and desperately sought after by connoisseurs all over the planet - and sculled the rest.

If only he'd given Rufus the red pill.


End file.
